


Don't Leave Me Dry

by quarterleigh



Series: Bingo Fest [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarterleigh/pseuds/quarterleigh
Summary: "Phil starts hearing the music on a bright Sunday afternoon."Phil owns a bakery. Dan is a busker who performs outside.





	Don't Leave Me Dry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the phandomficfests bingo fest, and for the 'bakery' square on my bingo card. Apparently I'm not done writing musician!dan.

 Phil starts hearing the music on a bright Sunday afternoon. He’s propped the bakery doors open, hoping the sugary sweet smell wafting from inside will tempt a few passersby to come in for a treat, when he finds himself nodding his head along to the Radiohead song someone is playing on their guitar outside. He glances out the window and sees the back of a tall man performing for a small crowd. He has a guitar case open at his feet, and every now and then someone drops a few coins or a bill inside. Phil is transfixed. The man’s voice is loud and melodic, and his version of this song- _ High and Dry _ , one of Phil’s favorites- is full of feeling. 

 He can’t stand and watch for long, but he spends the next few hours tapping his foot while selling cakes and baking scones. The music doesn’t stop until the sun starts to drop beneath the horizon, bathing the London street in a warm purple twilight. Phil quickly grabs a brown paper bag and fills it with cookies. He runs outside to find the man hunched over his guitar case, sorting through his tips.

 

 “Erm, excuse me,” He says, awkwardly waving his free hand at the man’s back. 

 

 “Yeah?” The man stands and turns around. He’s taller than Phil, just barely, and the street lamps cast shadows over his face. 

 

 “These are for you,” Phil says, holding out the bag of cookies. “They’re warm.” The man takes the bag and looks inside. 

 

 “Are these chocolate chip?” He asks, with excitement in his voice that makes him sound young. 

 

 “Some of them- there’s a few macadamia nut and oatmeal raisins in there as well.” Phil shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry- I didn’t know if you have any allergies, or if you’re vegan or anything. I can get you something else if you can’t eat those.” 

 

 “Mate, I’m going to eat every single one of these,” The man laughs.  

 

 “Well, good,” Phil says, grinning. They stand in silence for a moment, just smiling at each other. It’s still hard to really make out the man’s face, but his smile is bright and his dimples are deep. “Er, okay, then. Have a good night!” Phil waves, turning to go back inside and start closing up the storefront. 

 

 “Oh!” The man says, sounding surprised. “Are you going- uh, thank you!” 

 

 “You’re welcome! Bye!” Phil closes and locks the door behind him, flipping the sign to ‘closed’. His heart is pounding. 

 

.

 

 The man comes back the next Sunday. And the next. He continues to busk outside Phil’s bakery every weekend for a solid month. They make small talk. He learns the man’s name is Dan and he wants to go back to school for music. Phil jokes about giving him a job. They never say a lot, but it feels like they’re communicating. 

 

 Phil gives Dan a different baked good every week. Muffins, scones, biscuits;  _ at this rate, he’ll have had my entire menu,  _ Phil thinks once as he drops a bag of brownies into his guitar case during a particularly soulful cover of a Muse song. Not that he minds. He’s seen Dan by now- really  _ seen  _ him, the crinkles around his eyes, the moles on his cheeks, the patch of his neck that’s sometimes rosy, sometimes not. 

 

 They’ve never had a real conversation, but Phil thinks he might be in love. He thinks about the man at night, sometimes. In the shower, in his bed. One Sunday, the man pulls him into a quick hug, and Phil becomes enamored with his soft skin and squishy stomach. He wants to kiss his thighs, to press his face into the warmth of that body. He starts to feel like a teenager again, completely insatiable, unable to make himself come hard enough to satisfy his desires. 

 

 Some Sundays he has a difficult time looking Dan in the eye.

 

.

 

And then, on one Sunday afternoon, it begins to rain. All at once, the skies open up and it pours. Phil grabs an umbrella and rushes outside as pedestrians hurry to take cover. He holds the umbrella open over Dan and his guitar as he tries to gather the tips from his case. 

 

 “Come inside!” Phil shouts. Dan follows him into the bakery, dripping into the floor. Phil locks the door and flips the sign. 

 

 “Why are you closing?” Dan asks, confused. 

 

 “Because I’m the only one working this afternoon and I need to grab you a change of clothes.” He takes the guitar case from Dan and motions behind the counter. “Follow me.” 

 

 “But what if people want to come in and wait out the storm?”

 

 “They’ll live,” Phil says, leading Dan from the bakery up the stairs into his flat. 

 

 “Oh, shit, do you  _ live  _ here?” Dan asks when they walk through a door into Phil’s tiny studio. 

 

 “Home sweet home!” Phil replies, setting the guitar case onto the tile that denotes the ‘kitchen’ area, and walking the seven steps to his ‘bedroom’ area to pull a jumper and sweatpants from his dresser. 

 

 “Is that a bakery pun?” 

 

 “Wasn’t meant to be, but now it is.” Dan snorts. “Here, change into this.” He hands the clothes over and points out the bathroom. “Bring your wet clothes back out with you, I’ll give them a wash.” 

 

 “Phil…” Dan looks at a loss for words. “You don’t need to do all this.” 

 

 “What? It’s no problem at all, really. I need to do laundry anyway, I’ll just throw your things in with mine.”

 

 “No, not just that, though,” Dan says, looking serious. 

 

 “What do you mean?” Phil asks, feeling unease in the pit of his stomach. 

 

 “I mean, you’re always, like, feeding me and making sure I’m warm.” He’s not wrong- there had been one evening when Phil had walked out to see Dan shivering in a t-shirt and had all but forced him to wear one of Phil’s jackets home. Dan never gave the jacket back and Phil never asked. “You don’t have to.” 

 

 “I want to.” 

 

 “Why, though? I can’t give you anything in return.” Dan looks frustrated. “Sometimes it makes me- it makes me feel bad. I feel like you pity me or something.” Phil is stunned. 

 

 “I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel like I was looking down on you, that’s not the case at all,” Phil clears his throat. “I guess I do like giving you things, but it isn’t because I think you need someone to take care of you, it’s just because I… like you. I care about you. And I’m sorry you feel like you can’t give me anything in return, because every day I get to hear you sing, I feel like you’re giving me something. Every time I see you smile, hear you laugh. When you hugged me, you were giving me something.” Dan’s mouth is slightly ajar, but Phil can’t read his expression. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I understand if you don’t want me bothering you anymore.”   

 

 “Phil…” Dan looks dumbstruck. Phil tries to meet his gaze, then looks away, stomach in knots. And then something must click in Dan because suddenly he’s reaching for Phil, wet hands cradling his face. He leans in as if to kiss him but stops short to gauge Phil’s reaction. He gives Dan a tiny nod.  _ Yes. Please.  _ Dan smiles, and then they’re kissing. 

 

 It isn’t fireworks. It’s warm cookies on a rainy day. It’s relaxing into a bubble bath when your muscles ache. It’s the last school bell on a Friday afternoon. Phil could kiss him forever. 

 

 “You’re sweet,” Dan whispers when they finally pull away for air, forehead pressed to forehead. “Let me take care of you. Please. It’s all I want.” Phil’s heart is in his throat. He nods. 

 

 Dan smiles, running his hands down Phil’s chest. He takes off Phil’s shirt first, and then his own, still wet from the rain. He kisses Phil’s neck as he unbuttons and pushes his trousers and pants down in one go. Phil is already gasping for air when Dan gently pushes him backwards onto the bed, kissing his way down his chest, and stomach, and then taking him in his mouth. 

 

 Phil thinks he’s moaning but he can’t be sure, not when everything is Dan. Dan is all he sees, all he hears, all he feels. All he knows is Dan. The way Dan is sucking, licking, stroking him. The way Dan’s hair is drying and already curling up underneath Phil’s fingers. The way Dan reaches for Phil’s left hand and holds it tight. 

 

 “Dan, oh god. Dan!” Phil squeezes his hand as he comes. When Dan comes up to kiss him on the mouth, he tastes like sugar. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos, comments and [reblogs](https://floralleigh.tumblr.com/post/178582624591/dont-leave-me-dry) are always appreciated! :D


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